Alex nodded. “No questions,” he said. “Marcus here can take a look at her.”
“I didn’t know where else to go.” The man’s voice cracked. “She won’t stop crying, and she’s red, and I can’t afford to… the hospitals ask too many questions. I can’t…” He trailed off, his gaze fixing on the door, mapping the escape route,…
I moved closer, keeping my hands visible. “What’s her name?”
“My daughter, Gabriella, Gabbi,” he whispered, his grip on the baby loosening. “She’s five months old. Her mom… she’s… I found her…” He was distraught.
“May I?” I held out my arms, and after hesitating, he surrendered the tiny bundle to me. I headed straight for the medical room, Morgan on my heels, using the wall to stay upright.
Gabbi felt warm but not dangerously so. I unwrapped her, noting the soiled diaper and a mild rash across her belly. Her breathing was fussy but not labored, and when I pressed my stethoscope to her chest, I was relieved to hear it was clear—just the signs of a baby in distress, not of illness.
Morgan swayed on his feet, almost collapsing against the exam table. “Please help her.”
Alex appeared in the doorway, arms folded. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”
Morgan’s eyes widened, but then he slumped. “Anything. I’ll find a way out of this mess if it means she’s okay. Please, help her.”
The baby let out a sharp wail, her tiny fists flailing and legs kicking in restless discomfort. She was dehydrated, based on how dry her diaper was despite being soiled.
“When did she last have a wet diaper?” I asked, already reaching for the supplies to clean her up.
“I don’t know. I only got her two hours ago.” Morgan’s voice cracked as he slumped into a chair, his hands shaking. “Her mother told me she cared for Gabbi, that she wasn’t using anymore, that I could trust her, but… I found them both when I went to check… Gabbi was lying there next to her mom,there was a needle in her mom’s fucking arm, and Gabbi was crying?—”
The pieces fell into place—his disheveled appearance, wild expression, and reluctance to go to the hospital. Was he using drugs? Was thisactuallyhis daughter? I couldn’t jump to conclusions—not when a baby was involved—but I filed the questions away, knowing I’d need to run a tox screen if I had any real suspicion. Right now, Gabbi needed care, and Morgan needed grounding. One step at a time.
“Is she okay?”
I finished cleaning Gabbi and wrapped her in a fresh blanket from our supplies.
“She’s uncomfortable and hungry,” I murmured, checking her mouth and gums. “She needs feeding now, but we don’t keep formula on hand—Guardian Hall’s not stocked for babies.”
Morgan looked stricken. He reached for a scrappy old backpack and tipped out its contents—spare onesies, a half-used tin of formula, a bottle, and a handful of mismatched baby items. I picked through it and found what we could use. I rinsed the bottle, then boiled a kettle and filled a clean bowl with some sterilizing fluid to submerge the bottle and nipple—makeshift, but better than nothing.
“We’ll need more formula,” I said to Alex.
Alex nodded. “Jazz and I will head to the store.”
“It’s not even three a.m. on Christmas morning,” I reminded him.
“I’ll call Ellis if the bodega isn’t open.”
“Okay, we need anything he has, bottles, diapers—lots of diapers—wipes…”
“On it.” He left with Jazz and, given that the bodega was a two-minute walk away and Ellis, the owner who lived over the store, was a good friend of Guardian Hall, I knew they’d be back soon with whatever he had.
Morgan blinked, clearly dazed, weaving on his feet. “It’s Christmas?” he said, sounding shocked, out of it. Then, his knees buckled. I lunged forward, catching him before he hit the floor and lowering him onto his side.
I checked Morgan’s pulse—it was thready but present—then his arms for needle tracks. Not that drugs are always linked to tracks, but it was the only thing I could check without running the tox screen. Seemed to me he was exhausted and overwhelmed, and I covered him in blankets where he lay, and set up a drip—when Alex came back, we’d get him into a bed.
But for now, he’d have to stay where he was, and my attention returned to Gabbi.
By the time I returned to my room, it was seven a.m. Tyler was still sleeping, and I wanted to climb into bed, but I needed to be back downstairs with the new arrival. This pit stop was for a shower and fresh clothes, but after I showered, I took a minute to stare at the man who’d changed my world.
“You’re staring,” he murmured and startled the hell out of me.
“I know I am.”
“Stop staring, freak,” he added, eyes still closed, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sleepy grin.
